A young corporate attorney sentenced to four months in a county jail for having sex with a minor said his high-stress legal career was partially to blame for the crime.

I’ve heard a lot of things blamed on stress over the years, and blamed quite a few things on stress over the years, but Wow! The attitude – the arrogance – he’s the perfect representation of a big-frim associate. Too bad he probably won’t be an attorney much longer.

Even though I went into the office with little resistance both Saturday and Sunday, and am carrying the office pager over the holiday weekend, I’m dreading the official return to work tomorrow. I’ve spent too much time this weekend trying to think about why that is. I think the answer is painfully obvious, even though I don’t want to admit it. What’s there tomorrow that wasn’t there yesterday and today? Why certain personalities, of course. Drama. Headaches. Stress. None of which are really what I need right now.

So, no stress. The Christmas tree is up and decorated. I’ve plowed through most of Friday’s Christmas cookies at a speed that makes a Pongo feeding frenzy look like a leisurely tea party. No gym or swimming to work that off, either. Just holiday zen.

Had a great turkey dinner with all the fixin’s yesterday with some wonderful friends. Now today I’m just sitting around learning some new software
and trying not to get cookie dough on the keyboard. Multitasking can be hazardous to your toys. Even though I will have to work this weekend, both to make up for a long swim Wednesday afternoon and the fact that my current arrangements don’t get me paid on these “holidays,” I’m having a nice day. The sugar coma is coming along nicely, I’ve got a Samurai Jack marathon running in the living room amd Pongo has turned the laundry pile into a nice little fortress of solitude.

Even though I didn’t post it on the designated day, I am thankful for many people and many things, and very glad to be here. Sometimes I bitch about things a bit too much, especially my day job. I’m certainly not where I thought my career would/could/should have been at five-years post-Bar results, but I am happy and thankful for what I do have and the people I share those things with. And Pongo [now let go of my foot!].

All right folks, the holiday season is upon us and it’s time to give.

Fortunately one of my favorite charities just happens to be running a cool charity auction this week: Jocktion! Autographed celebrity underwear being auctioned off for charity! Organized by 2xist and the National Prostate Cancer Coalition, proceeds go to support NPCC’s efforts for awareness, outreach, and advocacy about prostate cancer.

Auctions include whitey-tighties from Lance Armstrong and Fred Durst and boxer briefs from Orlando Bloom.

Dig deep and get the dirty laundry off the [backside] of your favorite celebrity. It’s for a good cause.

I’ve been told twice now that this morning’s post seemed a bit down. Sorry, but that’s the way it is. Work sucks, the San Diego sun tax is eating me alive and BorgHealth decided to remind me I turned forty this year by jacking my premiums by 25%. At least I know that even with that raise, BorgHealth will still never make money off me; I never thought I’d be proud to be a loss-leader.

I did make it into the office this morning, but got disgusted after only about an hour and a half. I brought work home with me but haven’t touched it. Stuck to the moonlighting legal work and some writing for Beachlaw. A good man I worked for in DS in the late 1980s had a great sign in his office: Your failure to plan does not constitute an emergency on my part. I might not be a master of organization, but I take responsibility for that. Some days I wish I had the financial security to put that sign up in my cube now. Gotta be careful or all the tongue biting I’ve been doing is going to result in some serious scarring.

I didn’t even get my Sunday Times today, but did get through the online version. Great article on the holding back of America’s future in the Week In Review, building on a great scene in The Incredibles.

And don’t think I forgot, Cal won yesterday and will probably go to the Rose Bowl. GO BEARS!

Not much going on here. I’m still in a bit of a post-vacation depression, wondering why I ever came back. I wonder if I could practice law out of a Winnebago cruising Highway 1. Just put out a little sign at rest stops: Wills and Trusts for Gas Money and spend the rest of the time taking photos and surfing and biking and … you get the idea.

Work’s been hell since all vacation means in my current circumstances is a chance to defer my work. No coverage, no changes of deadlines – my voicemail wasn’t even checked in a week and a half to see if there were any emergencies.

Sick of it, so I blew out early Friday for a nice, long swim. The insulation/isolation of the water helped. Then dinner and some hot-tubbing with some friends. Errands and a matinee of The Incredibles yesterday. Great movie! Now it’s Sunday morning, and as Pongo’s pointed out to me several times so far, we’ve got rain and thunder going on outside. Big Thunder. But after some breakfast I’ll swing by the office to finish up Friday’s estimates in peace and iPod-audio-bliss. My time, my music.

Much of the vacation was spent viewing and sniffing California’s splendid landscapes, such as this area adjacent to our motel (south of San Luis Obispo), time was taken for a little mental stimulation as well.

After my Palm crashed in Monterey, trapping my calendar and address book into it’s little silicon memory, my plans to contact and do things with various friends in Northern California vanished into it’s little warped viewscreen. Appropriate time was spent throwing things and cursing modern technology, and then I went to a local bookstore to browse a bit and unwind.

Pre-tech entertainment! Magazines and books and the blessed caffeine! While Pongo watched puppy porn Animal Planet back at the motel, I hung with the literate adults for a bit. Browsed philosophy and history. Enjoyed some glossy pictures. Chilled.

Then I found a book to take home with me. Normally memoirs don’t work for me. Too much self-serving ego, although Lance Armstrong’s first book will always have a special meaning for me, despite the fact that others have leveled exactly that criticism at it as well. But while flipping through Billy Bean’s memoir something grabbed my interest. I’m not really a baseball fan, and even if I were, most of his professional career overlapped with my time overseas, a timespan in my life for which I lack a lot of pop culture and sports references.

But I did buy the book, and his story of dealing with the issues of living a secret life in a hostile culture, the choice between personal life and career, the coming-out story and the media publicity following his decision was interesting. A very good read. But even more fascinating for me was the story of a man two-months younger than myself, growing up barely fifteen miles away. His recollections of Orange County, at the same times and ages as I was there, sucked me in. I burned through half the book that first night and finished it within two days.

I used to love to read, but law school and then law practice have tended to make reading a chore or professional requirement. Maybe I just haven’t been seeing the right books around. Maybe I need more vacations.

Saturday morning, somewhere south of Monterey we stopped at a Coastal Access Point on California’s Highway 1. We were probably within the Garrapata State Park.

The trail looked like countless others we’d seen on this roadtrip, but Pongo’s instincts and insatiable curiosity dragged us down the trail anyways. About two hundred feet down the cliff, he found an artifact. There, in the middle of nowhere, was a wooden bench.

We circled it. We sniffed it. Last, but not least, we read it.

If there was an identifying plaque or sign, we couldn’t find it. If it’s a quote, I can’t recognize it. Google identified several short stories that seemed to have related themes, but no match for the quote.

So we sat. We thought. We pondered. We admired the view.

Who dove? Into who’s arms? What journey?

The road trip has come to an end. We are back in San Diego.

There will be a few posts going up here and elsewhere on the journey. Many pictures were taken, and some will be posted.

As a quick summary, it was an amazing vacation Beachlaw Legal Field Research Expedition.

I got to spend some time with a wonderful friend, meet some new people, and do some necessary unwinding. Even in a city I’ve been visiting for over twenty years, it’s nice to be shown things by someone else and get out of the rut a bit.

The downside was the crashing of my Palm on Friday morning. I’m not sure how it happened, but the LCD display is cracked. I ended up sitting in the truck with Pongo and not a single phone number or address at my disposal. There were several people in Monterey and San Jose that I was supposed to call when I got to town. Obviously none of them were called; I saw none of them. It was very frustrating to say the least.

More soon.

Just sticking our heads out from the undisclosed location for a few minutes to giggle like school girls and clap in glee at this morning’s news. Arafat’s dead! The serial mass murderer died this morning too quietly and too peacefully under the care of our French allies. This op-ed piece in the Boston Globe and this post at Cox & Forkum both said it better than I can.

Now, feeling just a bit happier about the world, we return to our previously scheduled vacation. Back soon.